For the Benefit of All
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: The annual police benefit show is approaching, and it's up to Major Crimes' newest detective to see that the department does well!


Disclaimer: I do not own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was originally written around 2005, so technology is not at a 2017 level. Please pardon that fact.

 **For the Benefit of All**

 **By**

 **EvergreenDreamweaver**

 **Characters:** Jim, Blair, the usual other Major Crimes personnel

 **Plot Blurb:** The annual police benefit show is approaching, and it's up to Major Crimes' newest detective to see that the department does well!

Detective Jim Ellison, closely followed by his newly-official partner Blair Sandburg, pushed open the door to Cascade PD's Major Crimes Division, and entered the big room. He was expecting the busy noises of a regular workday: telephones, conversations, the hum of computers and printers. What he received was silence – nervous, apprehensive silence, and he could almost _taste_ the tension in the air. It was downright… _spooky_.

Rhonda, the division receptionist/secretary, was at her desk, looking worried. The rest of the day-shift detectives, for whatever varied reasons, were not around, although a few of the uniforms were skulking about the premises, shifty-eyed and silent. Ellison turned halfway around, meeting his partner's equally-baffled gaze.

"What's goin' on, man?" Blair's whisper was so soft, no one but Ellison could have deciphered his words.

"No idea, Chief." The older man cast another look about the bullpen and shook his head. He moved towards their adjoining desks, stopping to hang up his leather jacket on the coat rack.

Sandburg paused beside Rhonda's desk and smiled encouragingly at her. "Morning, Rhonda – everything okay?"

The woman raised her eyes from her desktop. "Hello Blair – yes, I suppose everything is okay. It's just that…THIS…arrived." She indicated a memo lying in the center of the worktop.

"What?" Sandburg craned his neck to see.

"It's Captain Banks' official reminder about the Police Benefit Fundraiser," Rhonda whispered. "I have to give it to him…but…."

Blair whistled softly and squinched his sea-blue eyes momentarily shut. "Ohhhh," he nodded sympathetic comprehension. "Rhonda honey, can I get you a cup of coffee, or anything?"

She smiled gratefully, and managed a rueful little laugh. "Thanks, Blair, that's kind of you. But I'm all right. I'm thinking I'll just sort of slip it into the middle of all his morning's correspondence, and…"

"And take an early lunch?"

"Uh-huh."

Sandburg patted her shoulder comfortingly and went on to his own desk, sitting at right angles with Jim's. He hung up his coat and sat down, expressive face creased in thought.

"Well?" Ellison's ice-blue eyes were alight with curiosity as he whispered the query.

"You didn't listen, I take it?"

"Chief, I have some standards!"

"In other words, you weren't curious enough to bother, since you figure I'll tell you everything anyway – right?"

"Yeah…so? Give."

"Police Benefit Fundraiser time," Blair said succinctly, and was meanly pleased to see Jim Ellison blanch at the words.

"ohshit…"

Sandburg's eyes twinkled, but to Jim's surprise he didn't say anything more, just reached into his inbox and started working. His partner reluctantly followed suit.

The Annual Police Officers' Benefit Fundraiser was the proverbial thorn in the side of every member of the Cascade police force, and all the civilian employees too. Although each and every person realized how much the money raised was needed by said CPD, those same persons also knew just what putting the benefit on entailed, in blood, sweat, tears and in many cases, humiliation.

For the Mayor had made it clear, years back, that all departments were expected to participate in presenting the show – be it Vice, Traffic, Homicide, Gangs, Forensics, Major Crimes, Medical Examiner, whatever. None was excused. No prisoners taken, no quarter given. And with a few notable exceptions – Vice always seemed to have a bevy of exhibitionists who didn't mind performing in front of all their peers and the general public – the whole thing was torture for department heads and peons alike.

The official notification of the upcoming event was always the signal for Captain Simon Banks to rise to new heights of crankiness, grumpiness, and general overall bitchiness, and his mood invariably spread throughout all of Major Crimes. The show was dreaded for weeks prior, endured as best it could be, and forgotten with haste.

Blair Sandburg had noticed this, the first year he had been working with Jim Ellison as an observer. He hadn't been involved with the benefit show, for he'd only been around the precinct for a couple of months, but he had definitely been aware of the unhappy tensions associated with it. He'd attended the show, and had winced in sympathy at some of the acts presented…and wished he'd been in a position to offer help.

The second year, he had felt comfortable enough with his place as Jim's partner to offer his assistance with lining up acts for the Major Crimes' share of the show, and to his credit, the anthropologist/observer had managed very well. He'd discovered that Rhonda and Rafe could sing, and had coaxed them into performing a duet. He'd somehow unearthed the fact that Joel knew how to juggle – and had persuaded the former Bomb Squad Captain to display his talent. This was a minimal showing for Major Crimes, but it was enough to get the Chief of Police off Simon's back, at any rate. Captain Banks was very gratified…and the rest of Major Crimes with him!

Last year when the dreaded summons came out, Simon wasn't slow to ask for Blair's help again, but a severe case of bronchitis had laid Sandburg low, and essentially kept him from organizing anything _or_ participating. The Police Chief had been displeased with Major Crimes' poor efforts, and had passed his feelings on to Simon. Simon had shared those feelings with the whole department…and things had been very, very unpleasant for quite a while.

Blair hadn't forgotten about it. He'd had an idea tickling at the back of his mind for some time, but events and circumstances had conspired to keep his attention elsewhere – circumstances such as rogue sentinels, dissertation woes, and firearms training at the Police Academy. Now, however…now the memo had arrived, and Rhonda was quaking in her boots because she was going to have to give it to Simon. And Blair's idea stopped its subtle tickling and slammed into his mind full-force.

He smiled quietly to himself, and settled down to his paperwork, content. He'd bide his time…and wait for Simon to show up and find that memo.

#####

The bullpen slowly filled with its customary inhabitants, and the uneasy silence was filled with the sounds of telephone conversations, clicking of computer keys, and Henri's off-key whistling. People came and went. Rhonda still looked nervous, but didn't share the reason with anyone else, although she occasionally cast pleading glances at Blair and Jim, evidently seeking moral support. Simon arrived from a meeting, scowling, and stamped into his office, firmly closing the door behind him and pulling the blinds closed.

"He's making coffee…." Jim cocked his head slightly, then whispered to Blair. "Trying to soothe himself. Budget meetings…." He listened, discreetly, and then smirked. "Tsk, tsk, Simon, such language!"

"Rhonda's going to have a nervous breakdown at this rate," Blair hissed in return. He watched the blonde secretary stack and re-stack a small pile of paperwork, evidently preparing it for Banks' inbox. He wondered where she'd concealed the fateful Police Benefit notification.

"I don't know about you, but I'm sending everything to Simon by e-mail today, not handing anything in personally," Ellison muttered. "Once he gets that notice about the Benefit…hey, aren't there any cases that we can work on out of the office this afternoon?" He hopefully shuffled file folders, only to sag back in his chair, disappointed. "Sandburg, find something, can't you?!"

"Nope. Nothing. Maybe you can go visit Dan, down in the morgue," his partner offered.

"There's a thought!"

Sandburg shuddered; he thought hiding out in the morgue was carrying things a bit far, even when faced with the horror of the Police Officers' Benefit.

Finally Rhonda evidently screwed up her courage. She gathered up her pile of paperwork, and holding it in front of her like a shield, went to Captain Banks' office and tapped for admittance.

"Enter!"

Rhonda was only in the office a few seconds, and she exited smartly, closing the door behind her with care. Still looking exceedingly nervous, she returned to her desk and barricaded herself behind a stack of file folders.

"Chief, let's go for a coffee break or something!" Jim eyed the closed door of Banks' office warily.

"Go ahead, Jim…I've got something I need to finish here."

Ellison frowned and gave his partner a curious look. Blair _never_ turned down an invitation to coffee. "You okay, Chief?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure; I'm fine."

The Sentinel kept his worried gaze fixed on Blair. "Uh…you want me to bring you a cup of coffee or anything? Candy bar?"

"No…that's okay." Sandburg didn't raise his head, and Jim's concern spiked higher. He could hear his partner's heartbeat speed up and skitter. He waited, but Blair ignored him.

After a moment the older detective sighed and stood up. He'd learned, over the years, that if Blair didn't feel communicative – it was rare, to be sure, but it happened – nothing and no one could make him talk until he was ready. Ellison squeezed his partner's shoulder briefly and departed for the break room. As soon as he was gone, Blair glanced up, eyes on Simon Banks' office door. Watching and listening. Not for the first time, he wished for Sentinel senses.

Ten minutes after Jim's reluctant return to his desk, a muffled roar erupted from behind the closed door, and all the occupants of the bullpen – except Rhonda, Blair and Jim, who had been waiting for exactly this – jerked around, staring in shock and bewilderment as the roar was followed by a resounding crash of something breakable hitting the wall. Rhonda ducked her head nearer her desk, evidently attempting to disappear into the wood. Blair shivered. Ellison winced, and briefly pressed his fingers against his ears.

"Ouch!"

Automatically, Blair put a soothing hand on his partner's arm. "Dial down, Jim."

Ellison nodded, still grimacing. "I think he found the memo."

"Sounds like it." Sandburg pulled in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stood up decisively. "Jim…my life insurance lists you as the beneficiary, and all my health premiums are paid up. Naomi's latest contact number is in my Rolodex. Please don't sell the Volvo right away, okay?" He started towards the captain's office.

"Chief – what—" Jim reached for Blair's arm, but missed. "Sandburg!"

Blair walked up to Banks' door and knocked. All of Major Crimes watched, fascinated by the sight of a man deliberately courting death and dismemberment.

"WHAT?"

"Captain Banks – could I have a word with you, please?" Blair kept his voice very low and even as he opened the door a crack. Jim, watching mesmerized with the rest of his fellow detectives, recognized that tone – it was Blair's teaching voice, his Guide-voice, projected at its most soothing.

A growl was the only response, but Sandburg evidently took it as a positive reply, for he entered the office and closed the door behind him…very gently.

"Jim…what did you do to Hairboy?" It was Rafe, his eyes wide with shock.

"What do you mean, what did I do to him?"

"Well, why's he trying to commit suicide?"

Jim snarled wordlessly. He was wondering the same thing.

"What IS it, Sandburg?" Simon glared at his newest detective, teeth clamped hard on an unlit cigar.

Blair gulped, chanting to himself. _he won't bite you he won't kill you he won't hurt you he just looks fierce he won't really hurt you…._ He looked down at the desk and spotted the all-important, hated memorandum. He pointed to it. "It's about…this."

Jim was debating with his conscience – a silent argument, filled with embarrassment and frustration. _He'll kill me if he finds out I listened in on his conversation with Simon…but what if Simon's really pissed?! I don't want Blair to get hurt – well, not_ _hurt_ _, exactly; Simon wouldn't_ _hurt_ _him, not really, but he might yell at him, might make him feel bad….He'll kill me if I listen in….and if Simon found out, he'd help him kill me and help hide the body….damn it Chief, why didn't you tell me why you wanted to talk to him?_ He gritted his teeth, and forced himself to _not_ extend his hearing, grimly concentrating on the file in front of him.

When Banks' whoop of laughter erupted from behind the closed door/closed blinds, Jim wasn't the only one to jump. People all over the room exchanged incredulous looks. Rhonda raised her eyes to the ceiling and Jim heard her fervently whisper 'Thank you, Lord!' Unabashedly, Ellison stretched his senses.

"…it'll work, won't it?"

"Sandburg, you never cease to amaze me! When did you say you came up with this notion?"

"It's been kicking around inside my head for a long time, but I didn't have a real handle on it until lately. Do you think the rest of the guys will go for it?"

 _What in Sam Hill are they talking about?_ Jim frowned, wishing he had the ability to read his partner's mind as well as listen to his vital signs.

"Well, just so long as you don't decide to do the Three Little Pigs," Banks chortled.

"But Simon – I mean, Captain – it would be so…you don't think…nah, you're right. But it sure would be perfect!"

 _The Three Little Pigs?_ Jim rubbed one ear disbelievingly. _I'm going crazy, that's what. The Sandburg Zone's finally sucked me in, and the next stop's a padded room. Only…only…Simon and Blair are there already, and I'm not sure I want to share a padded cell with them…._

"Go on, get out of here. I'll make the announcement about it later this afternoon. Don't say anything to anyone about it until I do, got it? Scram, Sandburg, and try to get some police work done today, huh?"

"Yessir, right away sir, you got it sir!" Blair scuttled out of the office and shut the door behind him, his face alight with laughter. Nonchalantly, he strolled over to his desk and sat down, carefully not meeting anyone's eyes. He knew perfectly well that the whole population of Major Crimes was staring at him hungrily, desirous of discovering just what miracle he'd managed to pull off.

"Chief—"

"Shhh, I have to work."

"Sandburg—"

"You have to work, too."

"Blair Sandburg, if you don't tell me what's going on right this minute, I'll kick you down seven flights to the lobby, and then make you walk home!" Ellison's words were nothing more than a soft hiss of sound, but lack of volume didn't decrease their impact. Blair slitted a quick glance sideways, his blue eyes dancing with delight, and relented a little.

"You're always threatening that," he snickered. "I offered to help Simon with the Police Benefit show, that's all," he continued in an innocent-sounding murmur. "Simon's going to tell everyone in a little while. Now, let me work; I really have to get this stuff done, Jim."

Jim swore under his breath and kicked the wastebasket, but admitted temporary defeat. He wished he dared tickle his roommate here at work; he _knew_ he could get Blair to spill his guts in short order that way. Of course, he might end up spilling his breakfast, too, as well as the information, so maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all….

Lunchtime came and went without any word from the captain _or_ from Sandburg, who seemed to be taking unholy delight in withholding information from his associates. Jim had tried threatening, coaxing, and invoking authority, all in vain. Blair just looked at him with those wide, innocent eyes and repeated that he was only following Banks' instructions, and that Jim didn't _really_ want him to disobey their captain, now did he? _Really_?

Well, no. "But Chief…I'm your partner! Your best friend! You always tell me everything. I tell you everything. Don't you trust me?"

Blair, bubbling with quiet laughter, held up two forefingers, crossed in a 't'. "Get thee behind me, Satan!" he whispered, just loud enough for Jim – and only Jim – to hear. "I promised!"

#####

"Gentlemen…ladies. I have an announcement to make regarding this year's annual Police Officers' Benefit Fundraiser."

A chorus of groans and cries of dismay met this declaration. All eyes were glued to Simon, who was standing in front of his office door. He grinned, tilting his cigar between his fingers.

"Our newest member, Detective Sandburg, has offered his services as director and coordinator of the Major Crimes' contribution to the show this year, and he will be contacting you regarding his plans and what parts you will be expected to play."

"Parts we're expected to play?" Henri blurted. "What're we DOING, anyway?" He sounded panicked. "Hairboy, what've you got planned for us in that squirrelly little brain of yours?"

Blair stood up, grinning. "We're going to be doing some skits – fairy tales, as interpreted by the Cascade PD!"

#####

"….Well, _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_ , for sure. And I think _Little Red Riding_ _Hood_ would work. Most of the others don't have enough people, or not the right sorts of people, or they're too long. And we may have to do some creative re-writes with _Red Riding Hood_ as it is."

No one had left when the shift was over. Instead, all the Major Crimes detectives had settled into the break room, fortifying themselves with vending-machine snacks and a fresh pot of coffee, anxiously awaiting Blair's revelations.

"Do I sense a pun in there somewhere, Chief?" Jim drawled, lips quirking in a smile. " _Goldilocks and the Three_ _Bears_?"

"I knew you'd catch on quick, Jim." Blair favored his partner with an approving smile. "We're not going to just act out the skits – I mean, we are, but they're going to have a little twist, to make them fit in with the whole police theme."

Jim suddenly realized why _The Three Little Pigs_ probably wouldn't go over too well, despite how it might fit the pun-aspect. He chuckled to himself.

"…it won't take a whole lot of rehearsals, because each skit will have a narrator who'll just read the story, straight. There'll be a little dialogue, but it's the classic fairy tale stuff, you all know it by heart," Sandburg was explaining now, receiving nods of comprehension from his colleagues. "Do you guys trust me to assign the parts? I mean – you can decline, if you want to, but—"

"And what happens if we do decline?" Brown frowned.

"There'll be things for you to do offstage, H." Blair strove for reassurance. "Switching stage sets, makeup, costume changes, that sort of thing. Plus there's the narrator part."

"You already have some ideas for who's doing what, Blair?" Rafe cocked his head, his eyes alight with interest.

Blair smiled his sunniest smile. "Yeah Rafe, I do. I think you oughta be the Big Bad Wolf!"

#####

 _It worked out_ , Jim mused, as he watched Blair shepherd his friends through the first rehearsal. Blair had called upon acquaintances in Rainier's drama department; Simon had requested aid from various law enforcement friends; some of the other CPD divisions had been tapped for minimal assistance – with Sandburg promising return favors in helping with _their_ Benefit acts! _I'll never figure out how he manages it…but it works out!_

"Jim! You ready?" Blair strode over, looking like the embodiment of a frazzled Hollywood director: hair escaping from his ponytail, a rolled-up paper in his hand which Ellison assumed was his cast list. It wasn't possible it was a script; they were working from a story book, after all!

"Yeah, Chief." Jim held up his book, forefinger marking his place. "Just point me at the microphone and I'm good to go."

"All right – places everybody, places…action!"

Jim perched on the edge of a tall stool, opened the book and began: "Once upon a time, in a deep, dark woods, lived a family of bears…."

#####

The weeks passed and the night of the Annual Police Officers' Benefit Fundraiser arrived. It was a gala affair attended by all the important and pseudo-important personages in Cascade, plus all the policemen and women, and their families and friends. Originally, it had been held in the Cascade National Guard Armory; now they'd gone upscale, and the event was held in the Civic Auditorium downtown.

Jim leaned against a wall and people-watched, glad he was _in_ the show and therefore wasn't required to be in dress clothes, as most of the attendees were. He saw Her Honor the Mayor of Cascade arriving in a limo; he saw Chief of Police Warren and the Fire Chief stroll in together. He saw Stephen, and raised a hand in a friendly wave to his younger brother; he caught his father's eye and managed a fairly-cordial nod.

"Oooh, there's your dad." Blair's whisper was Sentinel-soft from somewhere behind Jim. "Jim, I hope he likes it…what if he doesn't…what if no one does?" The whisper switched abruptly from happy-excited to apprehensive, and was rapidly moving into the realm of _scared_. "What if it's a flop….Jim…Jim, it'll be all my fault…"

Ellison turned around and grabbed his partner's shoulders in both hands. He felt Blair shaking like a leaf in his grip. "Chief, the success of the Benefit does NOT rest on you. And even if all the other acts are flops, I can guarantee that Major Crimes' won't be." He turned Blair around and steered him towards the backstage area, nodding politely to various acquaintances as he walked.

"You don't know that," Blair argued softly…also nodding and smiling automatically at people as they moved through the crowd.

"Yes I do."

"You don't. You're biased."

"Granted, but I'm right, too."

"I'll be the laughingstock of Cascade…again. And everyone in Major Crimes will hate me."

"Chief, you're being an idiot!"

"If it's a flop I'm gonna kill myself…" Blair chanted miserably, "I'm gonna slit my wrists, I'm gonna swallow a bottle of sleeping pills, I'm gonna eat my gun, since I have one now—"

"BLAIR!" Jim shook him, hard, and spun him about again. "Stop it!" He stared down into his Guide's fear-dilated eyes. "Just stop! Cut it out!"

"Jim, I'm scared. Do you believe in mercy killings? Please say yes!"

Jim sighed deeply and pulled his quaking partner into a hard hug. "Chief, it's gonna be fine. You've just got a case of the jitters, that's all." He looked over Blair's shoulder at his left wrist, noting the time. "Now, why don't you go find that silly little drum you're playing for Dan Wolf's Native American chant – he's the opening number, remember?"

Blair gasped, shoved his uncertainties to the back of his mind, and galvanized into action, scurried off in search of his Indian tom-tom.

"And our last presentation before intermission is the first skit in the Major Crimes' Division's presentation of Slightly Skewed Fairy Tales: _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_."

Dutiful applause followed the emcee's announcement, and the audience waited patiently while muted voices and sounds of furniture being shifted came from behind the stage curtain. After several long moments, a figure emerged from the wings at the side, and placed a tall stool on the corner of the stage. Detective Jim Ellison, casually clad in dark slacks and a sweater, perched on the stool and smiled briefly at the audience. The houselights dimmed, and a baby spot highlighted the Sentinel. He waited for the curtain to be drawn back, revealing the stage set as a house interior, complete with kitchen table, easy chairs, and beds of varying sizes. Clearing his throat, Jim began to read:

"Once upon a time, in a deep, dark woods, there lived a family of three bears. Papa Bear—"

He paused – and from the wings strode an amazing sight.

Simon Banks had friends in the Washington State Patrol, and he'd requested a favor: uniforms they could borrow. Now clad in the most impeccable WSP attire, perfectly-tailored pants, starched shirt, broad-brimmed hat and boots, gun holster swinging against one thigh, Banks swaggered to the center of the stage and posed; hands on hips, feet spread wide apart, an implacable expression on his face, and his eyes concealed by mirrored sunglasses. Simon Banks looked every inch of his 6'5" – and damned formidable!

Awed gasps greeted the entrance, and then applause swept through the crowd. Jim waited until the tumult died down before continuing to read.

"…Mama Bear…"

From somewhere backstage, there came a sharp _THUNK-THUNK-a-_ _TUNK_ _…THUNK-THUNK-a-_ _TUNK_ _,_ played by Blair Sandburg on Dan Wolf's Indian drum; the rhythm sultry and seductive and compelling…and Megan Connor strolled on from Stage Right, one hand on a hip, and shoulders swinging. Blair continued the drumbeat, wishing he'd had access to a snare set and brushes – and a crash cymbal! – and the spotlight followed Megan's movements as she reached for a chair, pulled it into position, and set one booted foot upon it. Then she leaned forward, elbow on knee, chin on fist – and stared challengingly at the audience.

Simon had epitomized the ultimate patrol officer with perfectly-fitting uniform and spit-and-polish demeanor. Megan had opted for a different aspect, tailoring her trousers and shirt until they fit like a second skin, and swinging her hat from one wrist. With conscious effect, she raised her chin and ran her tongue across her lips. Blair hit one last _TUNK_ on the drum, and stopped.

"Whoa, MAMA!" It was Henri's voice from the wings, breaking the stunned silence – and it released a wave of whistles, catcalls, and enthusiastic yells from every male in the place, and probably many of the females as well. Simon and Megan managed to hold their poses, with only tiny smirks. Jim grinned openly at the crowd, encouraging them, and waited until they finally settled down before he resumed his narration.

"And last of all, Baby Blair – ah, um, Bear."

Ripples of amusement fluttered through the audience, and from the wings came Sandburg's voice, clearly:

"Ellison, you are SO dead!"

Laughing, Jim repeated the line a little louder. "Last of all, Baby Bear," and waited for Blair's entrance.

Jim had seen Blair's borrowed uniform lying on his bed, but he hadn't seen Blair _in_ it; they hadn't run a 'dress rehearsal,' figuring that it wasn't needed. Therefore, when Blair vaulted onto the stage, Ellison was as dumbstruck as anyone else. He stared at his roommate, mouth dropping open in stunned amazement.

Baby Bear was dressed in official WSP khaki pants, but the legs of the pants were rolled to display his footgear – not the knee-high polished black boots 'Papa' and 'Mama' Bear wore, but high-top basketball shoes. The gun holster strapped to Blair's hip was real…but instead of a revolver hilt showing at the top, this holster contained a bright-orange plastic water pistol. From the hip pocket of his pants protruded what was most definitely a sling-shot. His khaki shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, open over a tee-shirt that had to have been created especially for the occasion. Sky-blue in color, it bore the picture of a police helicopter tilting down at an impossible angle over trees and a highway, surmounted by bright-red words: **BEAR IN THE AIR**. The 'Smokey' hat Blair wore was tilted back, allowing his long curls to be displayed, and he'd put in every earring he could manage. A huge, enthusiastic smile covered his face as he bounced across the stage and positioned himself beside Simon, taking up the same exact stance. He was the living, breathing example of 'I wanna grow up to be _just like Dad_ – only cooler!'

And the audience went berserk. The screams of delighted laughter could be heard out in the vast parking lots.

Connor had seen Blair before she made her entrance, and managed to hold her pose, only breaking it to turn her head and wink openly at her 'son.' Simon, on the other hand, hadn't been prepared. He glanced down at Sandburg, and did an incredulous take…and then doubled over, slapping his hands on his thighs and roaring with laughter.

Ellison stared – and stared – and then, like Simon, he broke up. He sank onto his stool and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. Blair flicked him a happy, triumphant glance, and then resumed gazing out into the audience, waiting for the shrieks to die down.

Staring at the stage, the older members of Cascade PD could barely believe their eyes – was this truly Jim Ellison, the hard-ass, stone-faced, grim cop who had blown through Vice and into Major Crimes, and apparently never liked any of it? The all-business guy who had rarely cracked a smile, or seemed to enjoy a joke? How could he have changed so much? It was enough to make the 'old guard' start searching for pods beneath the beds.

And the rookies, who had only _heard_ about the legendary Detective Jim Ellison of Major Crimes, Cop of the Year two times running; the rookies who had known his unusual partner, Sandburg, at the Academy, and wondered what was so special about these two – the rookies stared at the dark-haired man in his casual slacks and sweater who was laughing so hard he couldn't sit up straight, and wondered how Supercop had suddenly become so human.

Jim finally managed to get himself under control, sniffling back the last of the laughter-tears and running a hasty hand over his face to eradicate most of the moisture. He cleared his throat over the microphone and waited while the spectators resumed their seats, and then opened the book once more.

"One morning, the porridge Mama Bear made was much, much too hot. So she suggested that they take a walk in the forest while they waited for it to cool down."

Onstage, the Three Bears had moved from their poses, and as Jim paused again, they began their dialogues.

"Oh dear, it's too hot this morning – even for you, dear!" Megan's sultry voice matched the insinuating look she gave Simon as she fanned her hand across the too-hot porridge pan. "We could go for a walk and let it…cool off."

"I wanna go! Let's go for a walk while it cools!" Blair pranced to the wings and back. "C'mon Mama, c'mon Papa! Let's go! Can't we?"

They agreed to take a walk, and exited with Simon leading, Megan swiveling her hips in second place, and Blair bouncing excitedly behind. As they disappeared into the wings, they received an ovation from the crowd that took a while to end.

Jim picked up the story line. "In another part of the forest lived a little girl named Goldilocks. She had gotten up very early this fine morning, and decided to go exploring…."

From the opposite side of the stage, Rhonda appeared, dressed in a blue, full-skirted dress covered with a white pinafore apron. Her blonde hair was held back with a blue headband. She skipped blithely about the stage, miming picking flowers and watching birds in the imaginary treetops.

Jim narrated how Goldilocks found the bears' house, and how she had decided to go inside. Rhonda acted out the story line, with occasional commentary – and Ellison's mellow voice led them through the too-hard, too-soft, just-right chairs; too-hot, too-cold, just-right porridge bowls, and finally to the too-hard, too-soft, just-right beds, with Rhonda settling happily down in Baby Bear's snug little trundle bed for a nap.

The audience was entranced; never had a Police Benefit performance been this good.

"About this time," Ellison continued, "the Three Bears returned from their walk, hungry for their breakfasts. Unfortunately, they were in for a rude shock."

"Someone's been sitting in my chair!" Papa Bear Banks bellowed, indicating the swivel chair behind the desk – the desk which bore the carefully-crafted-and-displayed nameplate that read "Captain Bear."

"Someone's been sitting in _my_ chair," Megan Mama Bear purred throatily, and glanced about the stage speculatively. "Wonder where he went?"

Baby Bear Blair approached his small wooden chair, now in pieces. He picked up one chair leg and held it aloft. "Somebody's been sitting in MY chair…and BROKE IT!" he wailed.

"Don't worry, Baby Bear, I can mend it," Simon rumbled.

"Come have breakfast," Megan suggested comfortingly.

They settled at the table, and the round began again. Papa Bear blustered and roared about someone eating his porridge, Mama Bear eyed hers, and suggested that this situation be investigated, and soon. And Baby Bear picked up his little red bowl, stared into it with chagrin, and promptly threw a little bear-tantrum.

"Somebody's been eating my porridge, and THEY'VE EATEN IT ALL UP! IT'S ALL GONE!" He kicked petulantly at the table leg several times, and slumped down in his seat, lower lip shoved out.

The audience was shrieking again, and Jim had given up trying to keep his composure. He hunched over on the stool, and laughed until he thought he was going to asphyxiate. He'd known his partner could be theatrical; he just never realized how _good_ Sandburg was at it! Glancing into the crowd, Jim spotted his family: Stephen rocking back and forth, his hands over his face, William Ellison a bright shade of puce; and Jim was struck with the thought that if his father laughed much harder, he and Stephen might end up orphans before the end of the night!

"All right, we're going to get to the bottom of this!" Papa Bear thundered. "We're gonna find the perp and bust him!" Every law enforcement officer in the crowd howled at _that_ comment.

"Fingerprints!" Mama Bear suggested. She and Simon stalked around the stage, ostensibly looking for clues. Baby Bear sat glumly regarding his empty bowl for a few seconds, then got up and skulked about in imitation of his parents. At the back of the stage, Goldilocks slumbered on, oblivious of the bears' search.

"Hey! Somebody's been sleeping in my bed!" came Papa Bear's astounded roar.

"Oh my…someone's been sleeping in my bed!" Megan made it sound more like a smug announcement than shocked commentary, and ripples of laughter went through the audience again.

Blair approached the little trundle with exaggerated 'sneaking' movements. He stopped and stared at Rhonda for a few seconds, then turned towards the breathlessly waiting audience. He unrolled his pant legs, squared his shoulders and adjusted his hat, and when he spoke, his voice had dropped at least an octave.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed too – and whoa baby, she's still here!" He swiveled back towards Rhonda and leaned over the trundle bed, leering. Goldilocks awoke, took one look, and screamed. She leaped off the bed and dashed offstage, with Baby Bear in hot pursuit, as the curtains began to close, leaving Jim Ellison spotlighted alone onstage.

"Goldilocks ran home, vowing never to explore in the forest alone again," he pronounced, "and the Three Bears lived happily in the forest ever after." He shut the book, and the spotlight went out.

As if controlled by an outside force, the audience surged to its feet, applauding, whistling, stamping, and howling their approval. The lights came up again, and the curtain swept open, revealing the cast. Clasping hands, they took their bows to thunderous applause and then disappeared offstage. Intermission had arrived.

#####

"Oh God, oh God, oh God." Blair leaned against a wall backstage, and closed his eyes. "I am _so_ glad that's over!" He took off his broad-brimmed hat, and fanned himself with it. "It's over…."

"Still got another one to go," Rafe reminded him helpfully, grinning. "Little Red, and all that."

"I know, but all I have to do is read that one."

"Great job, Chief!" Ellison, still laughing, loomed over his partner. "You okay?" he added in a lower tone, as Blair didn't open his eyes or immediately respond.

"Not sure. I'm considering puking."

"I need to go change." Rafe wheeled around and hastily departed.

The partners were surrounded by dozens of CPD members milling about backstage, but essentially alone, since no one else from Major Crimes happened to be near. Jim laid a steadying hand on his Guide's shoulder.

"You mean that?" He scanned Blair carefully, noting that his partner's respiration and heartbeat were slightly elevated, but he didn't seem to be in _that_ much distress. He _was_ pale, though….

"Not really." Sandburg slitted his eyes open. "I mean – I might, but it's not inevitable, man."

"You need a distraction. Come on, we both need to change." Jim pulled him away from the wall.

 _Little Red Riding Hood_ had been more difficult to develop, in many ways. The original story had two male and three female roles; Blair decided to do some major editing of the story to compensate for the lack of women in Major Crimes. Hence, 'mother' became 'father,' and 'Grandma' did a gender switch to 'Grandpa.' Red and the Wolf, naturally, remained true to the story.

That problem solved, Blair had happily gone about assigning parts – and came up against a problem in his own home. For one evening, when he'd been listing possibles for the roles:

"Chief…I know you want me to be the Woodsman, but – but I'm not sure I can do it."

"HUH? But Jim, you're perfect for the part – and it's not big, you don't have to be onstage a lot, if that bothers you. It's just so…so you! You've got to be the Woodsman, man!" Blair stared at his roommate, blue eyes wide and anxious. "Who else could I get? No one else is right for it!"

"It's not the size of the part, Darwin, give me a break! It's just…" Ellison threw himself on the couch and folded his arms, staring bleakly down at the carpeting.

"Jim?" Slowly, Blair approached his Sentinel. He sat down on the edge of the sofa next to him. "Please…what is it, man? Why don't you want to be in the skit?"

"Chief, it's not that, it's what…oh, hell!" Ellison sighed sharply. Knowing that Blair would keep on at him until he found out what the problem was, Jim capitulated. "I've read the story, Sandburg. The Woodsman chops off the Wolf's head with his axe." He looked up at Blair, anxiety warring with embarrassment in his blue eyes. "I don't think I can kill a wolf, Blair, even in a play. It just…hits too close, you know?"

Blair stared at him, speechless for long moments. "Oh man….Jim, I never even thought – oh man, of course you'd….well, damn."

"Couldn't Simon be the Woodsman?" Jim queried hopefully.

"Nah, wrong type. And he's pretty much stated that Papa Bear's as far as he's willing to go, anyway. Jim, it's okay; I'll figure something out." Sandburg picked up the book of fairy tales he'd checked out from the library and hefted it thoughtfully in one hand. "Don't worry about it any more. I'll think about it…." He drifted towards his room, his forehead furrowed in thought.

Ellison watched him go, feeling like he'd just kicked a puppy.

"Jim! I've got it! I've got it!" Blair burst through the French doors several hours later, startling the Sentinel out of the doze he'd slipped into in front of the TV.

"Well don't give it to me!" Ellison snapped reflexively, then took another look at his roommate, who was bouncing with elation, his eyes sparkling. "Got what, Chief?"

"The answer to the problem about killing the wolf, of course! Listen, Jim, just listen to this…."

#####

Intermission ended, and the audience members resumed their seats, now joined by those who had already fulfilled their responsibilities towards the show. Backstage, the Major Crimes detectives changed clothes, paced, and nervously practiced lines. Other acts went on, one after another. And at last it was again their turn.

"And once again, please welcome the Major Crimes Division and their Slightly Skewed Fairy Tales, this time featuring _Little Red Riding Hood_." The disembodied voice of the emcee floated into the auditorium, causing a stir of excitement.

This time, it was Blair Sandburg who pulled the tall stool in front of the closed curtain and took his seat, holding the book of fairy stories in his lap. He had strived to appear as demure as possible for his role as Narrator, and now was clad in slacks and a dark sweater as Jim had been; his hair was pulled back into a soft ponytail, only one tiny gold stud earring adorned his left earlobe, and he wore his glasses. Many people in the audience didn't realize that this quiet, unassuming young man was the same one who had bounced and emoted all over the stage as Baby Bear just a short time earlier.

"Once upon a time, a little girl lived with her woodcutter father near a great forest…." Blair's rich, mellow voice took up the story.

They played _Red Riding Hood_ closer to the original. To be sure, Little Red was by no means little – and Megan, while toning the part down considerably from sultry Mama Bear, still exuded sex appeal. Henri made a credible father, sending Little Red off to her grandfather's house with a basket of goodies.

And Rafe, clad in his most impeccable GQ suit, with the addition of a long black cape and a fake moustache, made a most debonair and villainous wolf. The audience obligingly hissed and booed him, and shouted warnings to Little Red which she ignored, blithely chatting up the Wolf and telling him all about how she was going to visit her dear, ailing Grandfather.

Joel Taggart, who was immensely fond of Blair, had let himself be coerced into playing the part of the Grandfather, although keeping a straight face through his scene with Rafe was a difficult task. When the Wolf pounced, baring his teeth, Joel started laughing, and it was lucky that the directions called for 'lights out' at that point. Ellison, using his enhanced sight, led the speedy work which got Joel off the stage and Rafe into his 'Grandfather' costume, and it was only a matter of a minute or so when the lights rose again.

All went as scripted – Megan and Rafe playing the drama to the hilt with 'Oh, Grandfather, what big eyes you have!' and so on. The audience was happily tense and still, awaiting the story's climax.

"The Wolf snarled and leapt at Little Red Riding Hood, preparing to devour her—" Blair was putting everything he had into his narration, as Rafe and Megan struggled silently onstage. "when suddenly…"

Taking a deep breath, Jim Ellison leaped out from the wings, dressed in black jeans, blue shirt and his black leather jacket; arms extended and hands clasping his (unloaded) Glock pistol in an oh-so-familiar stance. "FREEZE! CASCADE POLICE!"

If the audience reaction to Baby Bear had been tumultuous, their response to Ellison's entrance might be compared to a tidal wave. Pandemonium reigned as Jim held his pose, glaring ferociously at Rafe, who had unceremoniously dropped Megan on the floor and now cowered away in fear.

Finally, Blair took up the story, leaning into the mike and projecting over the applause to make himself heard. "When suddenly a rescuer from the Cascade Police Department appeared, and took the Big Bad Wolf into custody."

Henri and Joel, now in everyday street clothes, came onstage, and Jim gestured towards Rafe. "Take him in, guys. Wolf, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney—" The words disappeared in waves of laughter as Henri cuffed the Wolf and escorted him offstage. Jim helped Megan to her feet and followed suit, leaving the stage deserted.

"Little Red Riding Hood was escorted home by the heroic detective, whom she eventually married," Blair concluded, "and although Grandfather was missed, the rest of the family lived happily ever after." He shut the book with finality, got to his feet, bowed briefly, and exited into the wings. The spotlights went out.

Jim Ellison worked his way through the crowd, accepting congratulations and backslaps from numerous people. He'd managed to turn down his senses enough that the noisy throng didn't bother him unduly, and he had to admit it was enjoyable to hear all the nice comments. But he just nodded, said 'thanks,' and 'yeah, it was pretty good, wasn't it?' and kept walking. He wanted to find Blair.

It didn't take all that much. Blair was the center of the loudest group of people in the largest dressing room – a jubilant crowd of Major Crimes personnel, who were kissing, patting, stroking and congratulating themselves and 'their' rookie detective. Sandburg was flushed and smiling and talking, hands gesticulating wildly – and Jim smiled with deep contentment at the sight of his partner's happy face. Still, he could sense tension radiating; Sandburg was going to take awhile to come down from _this_ high, that was certain, and Jim wanted to be there for him when the adrenaline rush quit!

"I'm so glad it's over," were Blair's first words to his Sentinel, when Jim finally managed to displace Joel and reach Blair's side. "I'm so glad it's over….Jim, I'm so tired – I'm excited, it was great, but I'm just…beat! And I don't want to hear the words 'Police Benefit' again…ever!"

"Let me get this damned mascara off, Chief – I still don't see why I had to wear it! – and then we'll go home. Thank God we decided to postpone the cast party till tomorrow!" Jim rubbed irritably at his stage makeup even while adding his own congratulations to the general tumult. He patted Blair's shoulder and eased away, over to a seat in front of a mirror. By the time he'd gotten the stuff off to his satisfaction, most of the others had departed; only Henri and Blair were left, and Blair was walking Henri out into the hallway….

"AUUUUUUGH!" The shriek assaulted Ellison's sensitive hearing, and he cringed momentarily, covering his ears until he could recover. Then he ran for the hall, every protective instinct alert – for that howl had most definitely been his Guide!

There was no sign of Blair, however, only Henri Brown, standing in the middle of the hallway with an extremely bewildered expression on his round face. Faintly, Jim was aware of a rhythmic thumping noise – a head, pounding against the wall? – coming from the men's restroom down the hall, accompanied by Blair's continual wails and whimpers.

"Brown, what in God's name happened? What did you do to Blair?"

Brown stared up at the irate Sentinel, eyes wide. "Man, I didn't do anything to him! I mean – all I did was ask him what we're going to do next year!"

The End


End file.
